Executive orders - Tom Clancy [313]
That was never established, Alex, Lorenz reminded him.
George was careful, Gus. You know that. You trained him. Pierre Alexandre rubbed his eyes. Headaches. He needed a new desk light. Let me know what those samples tell you, okay?
Sure. I wouldn't worry too much. Sudan is a crummy environment for this little bastard. Hot, dry, lots of sunlight. The virus wouldn't last two minutes in the open. Anyway, let me talk to my lab chief. I'll see if I can micrograph it myself later today-no, more likely tomorrow morning. I have a staff meeting in an hour.
Yeah, and I need some lunch. Talk to you tomorrow, Gus. Alexandre-he still thought of himself more as Colonel than Professor-replaced the phone and walked out, heading off to the cafeteria. He was pleased to find Cathy Ryan in the food line again, along with her bodyguard.
Hey, Prof.
How's the bug business? she asked, with a smile.
Same-o, same-o. I need a consult, Doctor, he said, selecting a sandwich off the counter.
I don't do viruses. But she did enough work with AIDS patients whose eye troubles were secondary to their main problem. What's the problem?
Headaches, he said on the way to the cashier.
Oh? Cathy turned and took his glasses right off his face. She held them up to the light. You might try cleaning them once in a while. You're about two diopters of minus, pretty strong astigmatism. How long since you had the prescription checked? She handed them back with a final look at the encrusted dirt around the lenses, already knowing the answer to her question.
Oh, three-
Years. You should know better. Have your secretary call mine and I'll have you checked out. Join us?
They selected a table by the window, with Roy Altman in tow, scanning the room, and catching looks from the other detail members doing the same. All clear.
You know, you might be a good candidate for our new laser technique. We can re-shape your cornea and bring you right down to 20-20, she told him. She'd helped ramrod that program, too.
Is it safe? Professor Alexandre asked dubiously.
The only unsafe procedures I perform are in the kitchen, Professor Ryan replied with a raised eyebrow.
Yes, ma'am. Alex grinned.
What's new on your side of the house?
IT WAS ALL in the editing. Well, mostly in the editing, Tom Donner thought, typing on his office computer. From that he would slide in his own commentary, explaining and clarifying what Ryan had really meant with his seemingly sincere seemingly? The word had leaped into his mind of its own accord, startling the reporter. Donner had been in the business for quite a few years, and before his promotion to network anchor, he'd been in Washington. He'd covered them all and knew them all. On his well-stuffed Rolodex was a card with every important name and number in town. Like any good reporter, he was connected. He could lift a phone and get through to anyone, because in Washington the rules for dealing with the media were elegantly simple: either you were a source or a target. If you didn't play ball with the media, they would quickly find an enemy of yours who did. In other contexts, the technical term was blackmail.
Donner's instincts told him that he'd never met anyone like President Ryan before, at least not in public life or was that true? The I'm-one-of-you, Everyman stance went at least as far back as Julius Caesar. It was always a ploy, a sham to make voters think that the guy really was like them. But he never was, really. Normal people didn't get this far in any field. Ryan had advanced in CIA by playing office politics just like everyone else-he must have. He'd made enemies and allies, as everyone did, and maneuvered his way up. And the leaks he'd gotten about Ryan's tenure at CIA could he use them? Not in the special. Maybe in the news show, which would contain a teaser anyway to make people watch it instead of their usual evening TV fare.
Donner knew he had to be careful on this. You didn't go after a sitting President for the fun of it-well, that wasn't true, was it? Going after